


Scold

by cuneifire (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 14:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cuneifire
Summary: It makes Canada want toscream.





	Scold

~1800

.

“Canada!”

He hears England’s voice over the rush in his head, the smile coming onto his face. From a distance, he can see his guardian stomping over to him, clearly in a bad mood but never quite one to admit it. England is funny like that, really, although Canada takes after him in it (France, you always know when he’s mad; he wears his emotions like knives, no point in hiding them). But Canada doesn’t mind so much, no, he almost likes it, actually. He likes a lot of things about England.

“What are you _doing?_ ” he's saying, glaring. Canada quickly turns his gaze away.

Canada looks over the papers. “Checking on my immigration policy?” he says, and- yep, it definitively comes out more question than answer, _Dieu_ why does that always happen.

England steps up. “I’m supposed to be managing that.” He says, gaze off towards- the south. Always the south. He’s watching. America still makes him paranoid, even after two decades. (Canada wants to tell him _it’s alright, he’s my brother, he’d never betray me_ but he knows England had people like that who’d betrayed him, and he knows America hates England enough to push Canada aside and England loves America too much to face him on the battlefield himself. So it’ll always be him, Canada, stuck between their little push and pull, the magnet that keeps them together and apart at the same time but they can’t seem to realize equate to genuine care)

“It’s alright, it’s pretty simple stuff.” He says, watches England’s gaze leave him.

(And Canada wants to tell them, scream at the both of them that they’re idiots because that type of thing never comes up between their kind; he may be young but he’s smart enough to tell whatever they have, it’s real, painfully real to the point where watching them feels a lot like bleeding into the wallpaper from how focused they are on each other.)

“Now wait there, let me look over it-“ ( _England when will you understand I’m not my brother, I don’t_ want _to leave you-)_ England takes the paper and looks over it. His expression changes from a frown to a deeper frown, then to confusion. He sets the paper down and looks up.

“You said you want to increase the amount of Brits you take in? And restrict immigration from other countries?”

Canada’s shoulders pull in. “Yeah.” _It’s what I always do._ And he wants to say _don’t you notice_ but he doesn’t. He knows the meaning of a rhetorical question, after all.

England seems confused, but pleased. His hands fall away from the table as he meets Canada’s eyes. “Why?” he says, eyebrows drawn, obvious thought of _Canada I know better_ upon his face.

_Because unlike America, I love you._ Canada can feel himself thinking, feel the words bubbling in his chest even though he knows they’re terrible and he loves his brother and he loves England and they probably- well, God knows but- it feels _wrong,_ what else is there to say.

“Because, I like having you around more?” He says, smile lifting at the corner of his mouth.

England smiles back, and Canada shoves down the warmth in his chest. _Shut up,_ he tells himself. _Shut up, it's all fake he doesn’t care._

England's hand comes around to rest awkwardly on Canada’s shoulder, expression a bit forced.

“Glad to hear it, my boy.” He says, glancing towards the south.

_Although I know I’ll never be enough,_ Canada can hear himself thinking, and he shuts that thought up too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes  
> -For most of Canada’s history, the country placed priority on British immigrants over other European/world citizens.


End file.
